The Parent Trap
by Spazzkitty
Summary: The Parent Trap- the newer version- with a Hetalia twist. Romano is a somewhat poor kid from New York, Feliciano a rich kid from Florida. They meet at summer camp without knowing of the other's existence. Chaos ensues. SpainxRomano, GermanyxItaly, USxUK.
1. Of Unpleasant Surprises

This story has been in the planning stages for a while, and I can't promise how quickly I'll update. Priority for updating goes to my other fic, Turning the World Upside Down. I'll update this sporadically, or when the muse hits me. Don't expect updates every day- they'll probably be few and far between. Anyway, I'll stop boring you. I don't own Hetalia, the plot for the Parent Trap, or the characters. I DO own my socks, though.

***

The Parent Trap

Chapter 1: Of Unpleasant Surprises

Romano groaned, lugging his suitcase into his cabin at camp. Why did he even have to go to theater camp? He would rather spend his summer hanging around at home, even if that meant tolerating his stupid, loudmouthed dad. His father had been completely adamant about making him go to camp.

"Come on, Lovi! Camp will be GOOD for you!" His father had said, ruffling Romano's dark brown hair and ignoring the glower he got from using Romano's hated nickname. "You're an incredible actor, the best I've ever seen! You're wasting your talents by not putting them to use!"

And then, of course, his father had signed him up for this stupid camp without his consent and forced him to come. America could be incredibly persistent when he wanted to be. Romano flopped down on the bottom of his bunk bed and groaned. Lovino didn't like very many things, but he absolutely loved his room at his apartment. It was small and more than humble, but cozy. Photographs that Romano had taken were pasted on the walls, which was why his father America had been banned from entering his room for a long time. The cabin was actually a little bigger then his room, but the boring wooden walls were making him a little homesick. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, least of all America.

Meanwhile, his roommate had just arrived at the camp and was already more than lonely. He was clutching his personal servant and whining.

"Spain! Don't leave me alone! I changed my mind, I want to go home!" Spain fondly pried his charge off him with a smile.

"Come on, Italy. It's only for one month. It'll be good for you to get out and experience the world a little bit."

Italy wiped his overflowing eyes, brushing the tears away. "Okay, Spain. Promise to come get me after a month."

"I promise," Spain said with a grin, ruffling Italy's hair. Italy smiled, picking up his two duffel bags. Italy hadn't packed light, and Spain had to help him carry the duffels.

"Cabin Number five! Here it is!" said Italy with his sunny smile. Spain smiled back, his green eyes dancing. They walked in to find the other roommate already on the bottom bunk with a photography magazine covering his face.

Spain threw the two duffels into the bed, then turned to leave. He stopped when he saw Italy's teary face. Italy's father, England, was infamously wealthy, and Spain had been hired as a caretaker for the adopted Italy when he was only twelve and Italy ten. He knew Italy was technically only his job, but it hadn't stopped him from genuinely caring for the boy. He pulled Feliciano into a hug and Feliciano clung to him, trembling slightly.

"It's okay," said Antonio. "I'll be back before you know it." Italy broke away and smiled at him and Spain grinned, feeling a little lonely himself. He turned and left the small house with a final wave to his beaming Italian. He was only gone for a few seconds before Italy bounded over to Romano, who was trying to fall asleep under his magazine.

"Hey! My name is Feliciano, but everyone calls me Italy!" Romano grunted in reply. "What's your name?"

"Lovino. Or Romano. Whichever will make you shut up sooner."

A normal person might be deterred by this, but nobody accused Italy of being normal. Plus, he was used to dealing with England, who was perpetually cranky and sarcastic.

"Do you want to be friends? Aren't you excited for camp? When's your birthday? Isn't acting so fun?"

Romano groaned. "In order, the answers are no, no, March 17th, and no. That was easy."

"How neat! That's my birthday, too!" He got no response, but continued to plow forward. "I can't see your face under there," commented Feliciano and, without further delay, he pulled the magazine off Romano's face. They both looked with obvious shock into bright, shiny brown eyes, accented with warm chocolate-colored hair and one gentle strand that formed a perfect curlicue.

The pair stared at each other for a few more seconds before letting out a scream at exactly the same time. Summer camp just got a whole lot weirder.

***

If you WANT updates, I suggest reviewing. Few things motivate my muse like reviews.


	2. Of Annoying Coincidences

I wasn't going to put this chapter up or even write it soon, but the fantastic reviews I got helped me write it! If you're happy to see this chapter, write a thank-you to my Hetalia-hating sister who actually inspired me to write this! Anyone who puts a thank-you to her in my review gets a free kitten! …Okay, I lied. This chapter is dedicated to Shalbriri Kiseki- PLEASE DON'T DIE! I GOT THE CHAPTER UP!

***

The Parent Trap

Chapter 2: Of Annoying Coincidences

Romano blinked with surprise into the face nearly identical to his own. Normal people, when they are faced with an odd situation they think might be a dream, sometimes pinch their arms and hope the pain will awaken them. Of course, like his roommate, nobody really ever accused Romano of being normal. So he proceeded to reach out and punch Feliciano in the face.

"Oow!" whined Feliciano, sinking to the ground and holding his face as he sobbed babyishly. Romano looked at him with mild curiosity, blowing lightly on his knuckles.

"That hurt? So I guess this isn't a dream," he said with a shrug. "I'm willing to chalk this up to a weird coincidence if you are."

"We look the same!" squealed Feliciano, snapping instantly from his crumpled, dejected heap on the floor and ignoring Lovino. "I bet we're cousins! Or BROTHERS! MAYBE YOU'RE EVEN MY REAL DAD!"

Romano rolled his eyes. "How old _are_ you? Seven?"

"Sixteen! Are you sixteen, too?"

"Yes, I'm sixteen, too," Romano said with a sigh. He turned to look out the window for a second when he heard a noise out the window and decided it had just been a sparrow or something. Imagine his shock when he turned around to find Feliciano going through his luggage.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he barked. Feliciano turned to look curiously at him, his face breaking into a smile. He held up a framed picture.

"Is this your dad? He doesn't look like you," Italy remarked tactlessly. Romano looked at the picture in irritation. It was of America and him- the blond had one arm wrapped around Romano's neck and was giving him a noogie. On the picture was a post-it note that read 'In case you miss me'. Romano was positive he hadn't packed that, so the only conclusion was that Alfred had slipped the picture into Romano's suitcase when he wasn't looking.

"Yes, that's my father. He doesn't look like me because I was adopted."

"I was adopted, too! That's so awesome! This is just like this book I read with orphaned kids that ran away from their grandfather to live in a boxcar!"

"How is this like The Boxcar Children?" Romano asked with an angry glare, stuffing the things Feliciano had taken out of his suitcase back in messily.

"Oh, so you read that book too? See? Another coincidence! The plot thickens!" Italy narrated cheerfully. Romano just scowled. "Do you want to see a picture of _my_ dad?"

"Do you want me to choke you with your own shoelace?" mumbled Lovino. Feliciano either didn't hear the jab or chose to ignore it. He climbed up to the top bunk like a monkey, scaling the wood itself and completely ignoring the ladder. When he reached the top, he began to go through his own duffels with reckless abandon, throwing the clothes over his shoulder. A slightly oversized T-shirt with a white, fuzzy-textured bunny printed on the front floated down gently and landed over Lovino's head. Growling, he pulled the shirt off his head, balled it up, then threw it angrily at Feliciano. Italy ignored the shirt (the throw went slightly wide, anyway) and finally pulled a slightly bent photo out of his pocket.

"THAT'S where I put it!" he said with a sheepish smile. He passed the picture down to Romano who took it grudgingly and looked at it. It was a picture of a young Feliciano asleep on a blond man's lap. The blond was also asleep. He had short, crisp-cut blond hair and the thickest eyebrows he had ever seen. On the left corner of the picture someone had written in neat, loopy cursive, 'Feliciano and Arthur asleep- August 3rd, 2000'.

"Holy crap," He murmured, staring at eyebrows with a mix of horror and fascination. Did fuzzy black caterpillars crawl on his face and die or something? Italy saw his fascination, but completely misread it.

"I know! Wasn't I adorable as a kid?" Feliciano said with a giggle. Romano wanted to tell him the truth, but figured Feliciano could think whatever he wanted. What did it matter to him?

"If you were both asleep, who took the picture?"

"My butler, Spain! I think I have a picture of him in here somewhere!" Feliciano pulled out an enormous photo album from his duffel and began to flip through it. "I should have one! Even I haven't seen this entire album! He's really nice, even though he says I'm sometimes hard to take care of, but he's always patient and- _oh_."

Romano looked up to see Feliciano looking in surprise at a picture in the album. With a sigh, Lovino pulled himself up as well. "What?" he asked skeptically, but his mouth dropped open as well when he saw the picture on the page Feliciano had turned to. It was a picture of two babies lying on a blanket. Two blondes had their arms around each other's waists and were looking at the infants lovingly. One of the blondes was England, and one of the children was clearly Feliciano. The shocking part was the other baby, who looked eerily like Romano and the other blonde who had sapphire eyes, glasses, and a bomber jacket. America.

***

Review if you don't want the story to die!


	3. Of Persistent Chatterboxes

And so Chapter 3 is done as well. I hope y'all like it, as writing it was kinda a pain. The main reason I did this was because of all the totally sweet and nice reviews asking me not to kill this. So I didn't, even though I wanted to a little bit. Maybe more than a little. Plus, I defied another direct order to get off the CPU to type this chapter up for ya. I don't own Hetalia. And BTW, making Germany a canoe rental guy was my sister's ingenious idea.

***

The Parent Trap

Chapter 3: Of Persistent Chatterboxes

"But it has to MEAN something!"

"It doesn't mean anything, trust me. It could just be a coincidence. It may not have even been America in the picture. It may not have been ME in the picture!"

"But it HAS to MEAN something!" Feliciano persisted. Lovino whirled around to face him, having finally snapped.

"This is the FIFTEENTH TIME YOU'VE SAID THAT!" barked Romano. "IT DOESN'T MEAN A DAMN THING!"

There was a pause while Romano fumed and Italy sulked, both to immature to meet the other's eyes. The only sound breaking the silence was the twin tapping of the two Italian's shoes as they walked down to the lake, Romano's worn blue converses and Feliciano's expensive-looking leather loafers. Their schedules were ironically the same (Something Feliciano took as another sign of their shared lineage, much to Lovino's chagrin), and the pair had a free period at the moment. Feliciano had managed to pester, beg, and wheedle enough to convince a completely unwilling Romano to rent a canoe with him.

"...But...But...But it has to mean something!" whined Feliciano again. Romano bit his lip so hard he felt a drop of blood welling up. His fingernails were digging half-crescents into his palms, and it took all his self-control not to strangle the peppy, annoying chatterbox with his bare hands. Remember what America always said- being nice was the best policy. He decided to go with the nice approach. Some approach HAD to get him SOMEWHERE, and being nice seemed most likely to work.

"Hey, Feliciano? Could you do me a favor?" Feliciano looked up at him with shining brown eyes, seeming to respond positively to Romano's polite tone. "Could you pretty please shut your goddamn mouth?"

"Okay Romano! Anything for you! But only really because you asked me so nicely! You know, when people are nice, opportunities just open up for them! One time my dad England was going to the supermarket and he met this nice lady and she said-"

Romano flinched. How was it that, when agreeing to be silent, Feliciano just blathered even more? They reached the canoe rental kiosk and Romano looked with shared sympathy at the blonde behind the counter, who was giving Feliciano an exasperated stare. Maybe if he was lucky, the blonde would strangle Italy and save him the trouble of dirtying his hands.

"Can I _help_ you?" he asked with disinterest, tapping his gloved fingers on the counter. Romano just tilted his head slightly in the other brunette's direction. Feliciano shut his mouth for a second, to look at the other teen curiously.

"Hi!" he chirped.

"Hello," the other responded, his blue eyes glazed over with boredom. "May I help you?"

"What's YOUR name? Mine is Feliciano, or Italy. This is Lovino, or Romano."

"...I'm Ludwig, Germany, whichever. Please just tell me what you want to rent, _sir_." The word had a slightly mocking, clipped edge to it, but Italy wasn't deterred.

"What's your favorite color?" Seeing Germany's eye twitch slightly, Romano stepped in to save his own life. Germany's massive biceps stood out from under his short-sleeved uniform and Lovino wanted nothing more than to not get the crap beaten out of him because of his irritating roommate.

"One canoe, please."

"Alright. Ten dollars."

"Ten DOLLARS?" choked Romano. "FOR A FREAKING CANOE?"

"I don't have a ten," pouted Italy, rummaging in his pocket. "Will a fifty work?"

"Sure," Germany said, rolling his eyes. "Let me get your change. Just a moment."

"No, keep the change," Feliciano said dismissively. "I hate small bills." Germany just gaped at him. Feliciano responded by smiling dazzlingly. His expression was beaming and sweet like a rainbow lollipop, causing Ludwig's pale face to blush a light pink.

"A-alright. Please take a canoe from the rack." Romano strolled to the canoe rack, picking the red one closest to the end.

"Come on, dumbass. Are you just going to stand there or are you going to move?" Feliciano turned at the sound and bounced after his doppelganger, turning around to give Germany a final little wave. They managed to get the canoe stably onto the lake with minimal whining (from Feliciano) and minimal swearing (from Lovino), and once they were gone, Germany rested his head on his palm, a slight smile playing across his lips.

"Feliciano, huh?"

--

"I've never gone out in a CANOE before!" chirped Feliciano eagerly.

"It's really not that exciting," sighed Romano, pushing harder with his oar. There was blessed silence for a while until Feliciano spoke up.

"Hey, Romano?"

"What?" Lovino said, somewhat agreeably. Paddling the canoe and the gorgeous scenery had really calmed him down, so he figured he might humor the other boy for a little bit. Plus, Feliciano sounded pensive, something he had already noticed was unusual for ever-happy Italy, despite only knowing him a few hours. He couldn't resist a look backward to see his face, to notice Italy's paddle dragging listlessly in the water, his brown eyes brooding, biting his lower lip with a degree of hesitation that also seemed out of place.

"...What would you do if I said..." He winced, preparing himself for the explosion of skepticism soon to follow. He changed his mind at the last minute while looking at Romano's genuinely curious expression and decided not to say what was on his mind, but the words spilled out before he could stop them, bubbling out even as he desperately willed them not to. "I think we might be twins."

***

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	4. Of Awkward Situations

Ello, darlings! It's Spazzkitty again, the author who always stays crunchy, even in milk! …That's a lie. I'm dedicating this author to two of my fantastic reviewers, sesshomarudeath06500 (I used your genius idea/request, so just wait for it!) and Xissae (The '7 days' thing intimidated me enough to make me start chapter four IMMEDIATELY). I don't own Hetalia, The Parent Trap, or… some other third thing. Enjoy! The chapter title will make sense at the end!

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The Parent Trap

Chapter 4: Of Awkward Situations

"What would you do if I said…" Romano waited with impatience as the younger boy twisted a strand of hair absently. Could Feliciano just get ON with it? Finally, the words came out. "I think we might be twins."

Romano laughed so hard he capsized the canoe.

"NO!" screamed Feliciano, flailing his arms around desperately. "I'm drowning! I'm DROWNING!"

Romano chuckled a little more, wiping the tears from his eyes. "The water is only three feet deep, idiot." Italy stopped his insane flapping to stand up. The water came up to about his waist.

"Oh. False alarm!"

"So what you're telling me is that you think that we're TWINS? As in, blood-related, from-the-same-parents-born-at-the-same-time twins? Were you dropped on your head when you were little?"

"Sure, lots of times. Why?" He ignored Romano's grumble that sounded somewhat like 'That explains so much'. "And why don't you think we're twins? We have the same birthday! We were both adopted! We even look the same!"

Romano turned from pulling the canoe towards him to scowl at Feliciano. "I like to think I'm much more handsome than someone whose ideal girlfriend would be a bowl of Bolognese, thank you very much." Italy ignored the jab. He could tell from the way that the older Italian avoided his more valid points that he really couldn't think of a retort for them.

"Where did you grow up?" Feliciano asked suddenly.

"What?"

"I mean the orphanage. What orphanage did you grow up in?"

"How about you?" Romano said, looking a little uncertain, afraid of the answer.

"You first." There was a brief pause when the two teens looked at each other, hip-deep in scummy lake-water, before blurting out a place at the exact same time.

"Oak Court Orphanage, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania!"

--

Germany was still smiling to himself in a daze when he heard splashing sounds and a plethora of PG-13 words. He leaned out of the booth to see Italy and Romano dragging their canoe behind them, wading out of the filthy water. Feliciano looked at Ludwig with an expression of pure distress.

"Your lake is so WET!"

Ludwig had to hold onto the wall of the kiosk to stop himself from collapsing with laughter.

--

"Okay, fine. Maybe we _are_ twins," Lovino said with a sigh, trying to ignore the way Feliciano's eyes lit up with excitement.

"See? I was right! I was right!" he cheered.

"Fine, you were right. Can you just shut up about it?"

"But the mystery is so much deeper now! Think about it! My dad and your dad apparently knew each other." He cut off Romano's protests with a serious stare. "Don't even TRY to say that's not your dad in the picture. I'm not that stupid. He's completely unmistakable."

The refusal died on his lips and he said nothing before finally piping up. "This is true." Nobody could ever mistake America's cocky grin and gorgeous sapphire eyes.

"Tonight I'm going to go through my photo album again, to look for more clues. Like Sherlock Holmes!" He grinned. "Care to join me, Dr. Watson?"

"I don't know. When I first got here, I got into a… disagreement… with some guys. We're going to play poker tonight."

"Poker? Spain taught me how to play that! He says I'm really good! Can I play?"

"I don't know if you'll want to," Lovino said with a hidden chuckle in his voice.

"Why not? I love card games!"

"Well, the loser of tonight's game has to go swimming in the lake at night."

"So?"

"He has to swim… erm… naked."

"So?" Feliciano repeated. Romano gaped and he shrugged, smiling slightly.

"I sleep naked all the time in summer! Me and Spain both do!"

"What the hell kind of butler do you have?" he muttered to himself.

"The best kind," Feliciano said, a blissfully ignorant smile on his face. "He's like the big brother I never had. But wait! Now I have you!" The younger Italian beamed, wrapping both arms around Lovino's waist. A small, fond smile graced Romano's face.

"I always wanted a brother, too," he said softly.

"Really?" Romano scowled, the temporary brotherly bonding moment gone.

"Yes, _really_. Now get off of me, you freaking koala."

--

Germany sighed and shook the flashlight in his hand. He had told his brother not to use all the batteries in the drawer and then leave the burnt-out ones in their place, and Prussia had yet again ignored his firm suggestion and done whatever the hell he wanted. No wonder Germany never really came home anymore unless he had to.

He whacked the flashlight against his palm several times. The third try made the light splutter back to life and Ludwig smiled in relief. While he worked here, he could room in one of the staff cabins, which were located right by the beach, so he made his way along the shore, guided by the flickering light from his flashlight. Ludwig heard a splashing sound, like something big was in the water, and froze, feeling his heart pound against his ribs.

Suddenly, the beam of light gave a violent shudder and died. Germany swore and shook the flashlight again, to no avail. The batteries were completely dead. Another slosh sounded, but a little closer this time. Germany kept himself completely motionless, a cold terror having seized him.

"Ve, Ludwig? Is that you?"

"F-Feliciano?" Germany said, feeling relief melt the horror he had felt previously. "Why are you in the lake this late?"

"It IS you!" came the squealed reply, and he felt someone latch onto him in a crushing tackle-hug. Just then, the moon chose to come out from behind a cloud. Germany looked down at the person on top of him and blushed bright-red. It was indeed Feliciano clinging to him and giggling with a joke that Germany unfortunately understood. Droplets of water clung to his skin, making him look almost statuesque in the glow of a moon. But that wasn't what made Germany's face the color of a tomato. And, unfortunately, Feliciano didn't seem to realize the effect he was having, as evident by his oblivious smile.

"Look, look Germany! I'm naked!"

***

I love all you reviewers, you help keep this story alive! (Hint, hint)


	5. Of Undeserved Dislike

This chapter was pretty fun to write. I was going to have this out yesterday, but my mom was like 'AAA GET OFF THE COMPUTER!! RAWRZ!!!' For those of you looking forward to Spain, the plan is to bring him in for chapter seven, so you can look forward to that! I don't own Hetalia, or the monologue I use later in this chapter. Thanks to my buddehs Emo-Pop (EmoLollipop) and Kimi (CoffeespazzumUSA) for helping me out with this chapter! I love you guys!

The Parent Trap

Chapter 5: Of Undeserved Dislike

"…Yes, Feliciano. I can see that you're naked." Feliciano nodded his head up and down, still smiling brightly and obliviously. Germany sighed. "…_Why_ are you naked?"

"Eh? Why?" Italy blinked at him for a minute, then smiled. "Oh, yeah! I forgot for a second! I was playing poker with my brother Romano who I love lots and lots and some other big boys who said they wanted to 'beat the snot out of him'! Is that even possible? Anyway, we were playing poker and I lost! So I had to go swimming naked in the lake! Romano said that it wasn't my completely fault, and that I just had a horrible poker face, but I didn't mind! I like not having any clothes on! Isn't it freeing?" Italy let go of Germany's arm and spun in a huge circle, giggling cheerfully as the salty breeze ruffled his damp hair. The older blonde tore his gaze away, covering his eyes with one gloved hand.

"Please get some clothes on," he choked out, his face a gorgeous fire-engine red.

"But I don't have any with me! They're all in my cabin!"

Germany sighed and took off his polo shirt. He stuffed it onto Italy's head with a gruff "Here." Italy pulled it over his head and blinked at him with a surprised expression. The shirt was light yellow and (luckily for Germany) went down halfway to Italy's knees.

"Ve, Germany, your shirt is so big!" Italy chirped, beaming up at him. "You're such a nice guy! Do you want to be friends?"

"Friends?" Germany said disbelievingly. Even when he was little, he never had any friends. He was picked on for half of elementary school, then feared for the rest of his life after he finally snapped and beat up one of the bullies. Nobody had ever wanted to be friends with him, and he felt his cheeks heating with a light blush.

"Alright! From now on, we're friends!" declared Feliciano, pumping his fist in the air. Germany scoffed and rolled his eyes, a smile unwillingly tweaking his mouth. "So, dearest friend, can you do me a favor?" Feliciano wheedled, sidling up next to him. "Can you walk me back to my cabin? Cabin five?"

"Why would you need me to walk you there? It's just down the path."

"But it's so daaark," whined Feliciano. "The dark is scary!"

"Alright, alright," said Germany, holding out his hand. "Let's go."

"Carry me?"

"When you're not wearing pants?" Italy just pouted adorably. Germany sighed.

"Fine. Climb on," he said gruffly, trying to hide his embarrassment. Feliciano beamed and scampered up his back agilely, hooking his legs around Ludwig's waist and fastening his arms securely around the older boy's neck.

"You're so warm, Ludwig," he heard Feliciano mumble sweetly. Trying unsuccessfully to force down his blush, Germany began the walk to cabin five.

--

Arriving in the room, Germany found Feliciano's look-alike sprawled casually on the lower bunk of the bed, counting a sizeable pile of money. He looked up, saw Ludwig with Feliciano on his back pantless and smirked hugely.

"Don't. Say. Anything," Ludwig growled. Romano just raised his eyebrows suggestively and turned back to his cash. With a sigh, Ludwig tried to pry the younger boy off his back.

"He's asleep," said Romano, neatly separating a small stack of the money with a rubber band. Germany swore and tried harder to separate the deathgrip Feliciano had around him.

"Come on, Feliciano," he muttered. "Wake up." The younger Italian simply whimpered in response, clutching the embarrassed blonde closer to him.

"He's not going to wake up," Lovino said, not even bothering to look up.

"What?"

"He told me when he got here, along with a lot more useless information, that he's an extremely heavy sleeper. You have as much chance waking him as you have getting him to sit still for ten minutes straight when he's awake. No chance at all."

"What do I do, then?"

"Just sleep here. There's nothing else you can really do at this point. As long as you keep your hands to yourself, potato freak, there shouldn't be a problem."

"Potato freak?" Germany asked skeptically.

"You're nicknamed Germany, right? All Germans are potato freaks," he said. Germany swallowed a comment about racism and did his best to climb up into Feliciano's bunk with the brunette still latched onto his back. When he got up on the bunk, he made one last effort to pry Feliciano off, which didn't really work. Romano watched, scowling slightly.

"Hey, potato freak."

"What?"

"I really don't like you."

"Why?"

"Because I don't!" he snapped vaguely.

"…Okay then?"

"That's all! _Chigi! _Go to sleep!"

"What does 'Chigi' even mean?"

"…GO TO SLEEP!"

--

Feliciano woke up to the cheerful melody of a bluebird. He rolled over, still unwilling to awaken, only to realize two things. First of all, that he was alone in the bunk bed, meaning that Germany had left (probably some time in the morning, as Italy was infamous for getting up late). Second was that his twin brother was talking to himself. After a few hazy moments of confusion, he realized that the older was reciting a monologue from a play.

"Come and live with us-in the villa. You can set your swans swimming in the brook… we can talk of old times…you can open all that is locked up in me-as you did in our days of creation. I beg of you, Irene-give me this one chance to live my life over again." Romano's voice was pleading, rich, and emotional, delivered in a smooth, controlled manner. Lovino really was a master actor. Feliciano listened in spellbound silence to the delivery as Romano continued his monologue, not moving at all. "I can't lose you again, Irene-I don't think I could survive it," Romano ended, dropping his anguished gaze from the imaginary Irene. There was a moment of silence before Feliciano broke it with enthusiastic applause.

"That was amazing, Nii-chan!" squealed Italy. Romano turned, blushing in embarrassment, to see Italy's half-asleep smile. "What was that?"

"Oh, it was a monologue from When We Dead Awaken. I had to memorize it last year for some stupid talent show my friends bet me I'd be too afraid to do. This is theater camp, so I figured I should practice a little. I haven't acted in a while,' said Romano, looking at his shoes. A sparkle came into Feliciano's eyes and a slow smile spread across his face.

"You're really good at acting aren't you?" he said, his voice soft and deliberate. "I bet you could convincingly act like anyone you wanted." Lovino shrugged.

"I'm okay. A lot of people are better than-Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I have an idea!" said Italy, a grin coming across his face.

"I have a bad feeling about this," sighed Romano, but Italy ignored him, leaping dramatically off the bunk bed. He whimpered in pain when he hit the bottom and sat for a few minutes cradling his sprained ankle.

"Should I get the nurse?" Romano asked skeptically.

"No, No. I'll be okay," Italy whined. After about fifteen more minutes of Feliciano's pathetic sniffling, the 'wounded' boy stood up and pointed dramatically at Lovino.

"Do you want to know what my ingenious idea is?"

"Not particularly," said Lovino, watching him with an expression of mild irritation. Feliciano pretended like he hadn't heard.

"We should…" Feliciano began, a huge, beaming smile on his face, looking so proud of his idea and triumphant that he reminded Romano very much of America, "SWITCH PLACES!"

***

Oh my goodness! Spazzkitty ISN'T putting in a shameless plug for reviews? WEIRD! Anyway, for those of you who don't get Feli's latest scatterbrained idea, don't feel bad. Romano doesn't either, and it'll be explained next chapter =3


	6. Of Accurate Imitations

This chapter is almost 2,000 words without the author's notes, so I hope that makes up for the long time with no updates. 'Cause you know I love you readers and I'm so sorry I couldn't update sooner! I've decided to put some Russia and China into this fic as well because I felt like it. Please let me know, reviewers, if me putting SealandxLichtenstein in here would work! Because I really really want some in here! I don't own Hetalia, and I hope you enjoy! Look forward to Spain and Lovi meeting in chapter seven!

***

The Parent Trap

Chapter 6: Of Accurate Imitations

"We should do what?" Romano said skeptically.

"Switch PLACES!" Feliciano repeated, still grinning like an idiot.

"…You're a dumbass, you know that?" Romano replied with a sigh, walking over to his bunk and lying down on it.

"What do you mean? Wouldn't it be so fun?" A whine was beginning to creep into his voice and Romano groaned, chucking a pillow at him.

"Shut up," he complained. "It's too early to deal with your whining."

"But you're whining too!"

"AM NOT!" he barked. "What are you even talking about, trading places? It doesn't make any sense!"

"I'm glad you're confused, my dear brother! Because now I get an opportunity to explain my genius!" He ignored Lovino's eyeroll and launched himself enthusiastically into his speech. "You should learn how to be me and I should learn to be you! We'd learn each other's habits, and learn how to pretend to be each other perfectly! And then I'd go home with your family and you'd go home with mine!"

"And _why_ would we do this?"

"Well, first of all, it'd be fun!" He proclaimed with a giggle. "And second of all, don't you want to investigate? Don't you want to know what's up with our dads?"

Romano, who was about to interject, shut his mouth with a snap when he heard this reasonable argument. There was a brief moment of silence, before Romano shifted position on the bed so he was sitting up against the headboard. "Fine. I'll do it."

"Really? Yay! I love you, brother!" Italy squealed, latching onto the other boy's arm.

"Wh-what are you doing? Get off me!" Italy ignored him.

"Okay, first of all! We need to learn to act like each other! You're a good actor, so I know you can do it if you practice!"

"Practice? I don't need to," he interrupted, crossing his arms. "You're easy to act like."

"Really?" Feliciano chirped, cocking his head innocently to one side. In response, Romano sighed and uncrossed his arms. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his forehead creasing slightly in concentration. A few moments later, his forehead smoothed out and his eyes opened. Feliciano was shocked.

"Ve, what are you staring at?" Romano giggled sweetly. His eyes, which had been dark and sullen only moments before, now shone enthusiastically. His mouth was in a cheerful smile, and even his mannerisms had been completely altered. He swung his feet childishly as he sat on the mattress, and his fingers tapped impatiently with barely restrained energy.

"Wow, you're so good at it! Let me try!" Feliciano bit his lip for a moment, then sighed. His eyes went from vivid and brimming with life to moody and secretive. His mouth pulled down into a scowl, and he slumped over, glaring at Romano.

"Ve, why do you look so upset, Feli? It's a beautiful sunshiny day!" said Romano, beaming brightly at his brother. The sugariness of his own attitude threatened to make him sick.

"Don't call me that!" Italy snapped, resisting the urge to giggle. This was so fun! "And it's none of your damn business!"

Inwardly, Romano's eyes widened. He was swearing, too? Maybe Feliciano was better than he'd anticipated. Of course, he didn't show it on the outside. He was too determined not to break character. "Come on, nii-chan! Smileeeee! Come on, come on, come ONNNNNNNN!" He said in a high-pitched whine. He felt like smirking. _'Beat that.'_

"Only after you take a flying leap off a cliff," Italy shot back. He smirked, not because he wanted to (Italy wasn't one for smirking) but because it was in character. Neither of the twins was sure when exactly this became a contest, but neither wanted to lose.

"But nii-chaaan!" Romano whimpered pathetically, throwing both his arms around his brother's waist and hugging him tightly. Feliciano wriggled in his grip, cussing profusely, and attempting to kick the other boy in the shin while Lovino continued his high-pitched whining, which had become somewhat unintelligible at this point. Then both made the mistake at looking at the other's face. Feliciano looked incredibly irritated and his mouth was fixed in an uncharacteristic grimace, and Romano was pouting babyishly while tears sparkled in his eyes. They both tried very hard, but couldn't resist their impulses and began cracking up hysterically at the same time.

After about five minutes of uninterrupted laughter, both slowed down and wiped the tears from their eyes. "You should have seen your face," chuckled Lovino.

"Y-yours was funnier," giggled Italy, one hand covering his mouth politely.

"I think we've established that we can act like each other pretty well. But we need to start learning about each other's lives. Let's see… Do you live alone with England and what's-his-name your butler?"

"Of course not! Do you even know who my dad _is_?" Seeing the older Italian's blank look, he elaborated. "He's _Arthur Kirkland_!"

"Arthur _Kirkland_? Like, that insanely rich guy who runs that theme park chain? Unicorn Land, I think it was called?"

"Yep! That guy! And our house is super, super big, so he needs a lot of hired help to keep everything running smoothly. I don't have any photos on hand of the other people who live with me, but I can draw them!"

He scampered back up to the top bunk to go through his duffel again, and while he was doing that, Romano looked into his own bag and pulled out a small spiral-bound notebook and set it next to him. Feliciano slid down easily, plopping down on the bed facing Romano with a pencil and sketchpad in hand. He drew furiously for about ten minutes and Romano watched him warily, or more accurately, the slightly-unnerving, smiling, cow-shaped eraser at the end of his pencil. Finally, with a delighted smile, Italy ripped the top page off the pad and set it on the mattress. Romano gaped.

They were very simplistic drawings, of people, just standing in a straight line, facing forward. But the attention to detail was spectacular. Each person looked incredibly realistic, down to each individual strand of hair. Compared to Romano's best efforts, which made stick figures look like Picasso, Italy was the greatest artist known to man.

"Okay. First off all is our maid." He pointed to the figure farthest to the left, a woman with long shaded hair and a sugary smile. "Her name is Elizabeta Hedervary, but we call her Hungary. She's helped to take care of me since I was little when Dad was at work. She's super nice and she's like my big sister!"

"Anything else I need to know about her?"

"Try not to make her mad. She likes to carry a frying pan around with her. Anyway, next is my dad. You already know his name, but everyone calls him England."

"I recognize him," said Romano. It would be hard to mistake those massive eyebrows.

"He's pretty sarcastic most of the time, but I know he loves me! He likes to make pasta for me sometimes. He can't cook and he knows it, so pretend to like the food when he makes it. It makes him happy." Seeing Romano's look of horror, he giggled. "Don't worry. He doesn't usually cook. This guy right here usually makes food."

"Guy?"

"I know he looks like a girl, but he's a boy. His name is Yao Wang, but he likes Hello Kitty so much we call him China. He's really smart and nice, but I think he's heartbroken. He always talks about this guy he met in college that he misses a lot. His name was Russia or something."

Romano froze. "Russia?" Italy plowed on, ignoring him.

"Okay, next is our doorman and driver. He's Kiku Honda, but we call him Japan because he was born there. He's really calm and composed all the time, so it's hard to tell what he's thinking. But I like him anyway!"

"That guy, Russia-"

"And finally is Spain. His real name is Antonio Carriedo. He's happy a lot, although he can be kinda dense," Feliciano said hypocritically. "He's very responsible and his job, he says, is to 'keep me out of trouble'. I love him!" The picture of Spain with his bright smile and soulful eyes did weird things to Romano's stomach, made it flip around in a way that wasn't entirely uncomfortable. Filing this weird occurrence away for future reference and analysis, Romano continued to try to talk.

"Listen. About Russia…"

"You're still on about that?" Italy interrupted, cocking his head to one side. Lovino twitched.

"PLEASE stop interrupting. Anyway, I think I may know him."

"What?" Whatever Feliciano had been expecting, this clearly was not it.

"Hold on," Romano said, picking up his notebook and flipping through the pages. Feliciano saw that they were pasted with photographs- some candid, some posed for, some without people, but all fantastic. Finally, he stopped at a page. "Here. This is Russia."

The picture was a candid shot of a man gazing out a window, resting his head in his palm, with a slight smile quirking his mouth. He had blonde hair and sparkling violet eyes. "He was my dad's roommate in college. His real name is Ivan Braginski. They've been friends since they were kids. He's more than a little creepy most of the time, but he's like my uncle. He lives in the apartment next door to ours, and he's talked about somebody named China once or twice."

"We can investigate that, too!" piped Italy, scooting over so he could get a better look at the pictures. "Is there anyone else _I_ need to know about?"

"Let's see… You already saw my dad. His name is Alfred Jones, but he's so damn patriotic that everyone calls him America. He's got a massive ego and he's obsessed with being a hero, but there's nothing you can do about that. He's too stubborn. Here's him and his brother, Uncle Matthew. He used to live in Canada, which is what we call him, but he moved in with Ivan recently. He's the one picking me up and driving me to New York."

"You call your uncle Live in Canada?"

"No, stupid! Just Canada! And I suppose you may want to know about our other neighbors." He flipped a few pages until he came across a shot of two blondes. There was a young girl, around twelve, smiling sweetly and hugging the older boy around the waist. "This is Lichtenstein and her brother, Vash. Or Switzerland. Be careful around both of 'em, as Switzerland is both very protective and trigger-happy. He always carries a gun. But Lichtenstein and I get along well. I babysit her when Vash works. She's the only one that can call me Lovi, and I call her Lis."

He blushed furiously when he saw Italy grin. "You're a good guy, you know that Lovi?"

"SHUT UP! DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

"Why are there so many blonde people in your apartment building?" Feliciano wondered aloud. He was ignored.

"Anyway, I heard new neighbors were supposed to move in by the time I got home. So I can't give you tips for them, but you'll just have to act according to instinct. Okay?"

"I can bake them a Welcome-to-the-Apartment cake!"

"DON'T! Then my dad would know something was up!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

Here Lovino grinned. "Don't worry. We're about to get a crash-course in acting like each other, and by the end of it, you'll know by heart what you're supposed to do. You ready?"

Feliciano beamed hugely. "Yes, yes! I'm so excited!"

"Alright. Let's begin."

_***_

If you want me to update quickly, please review! It speeds up the process! =D


	7. Of TouchyFeely Spaniards

HAHA! CHAPTER SEVEN! I never thought I'd make it to this lucky number, so I'm giving much thanks to all you readers for inspiring me, especially Uccan who wrote me such a sweet review I almost cried! ALSO! UCCAN DREW ME A FANTASTICALLY AMAZING FANART FROM CHAPTER 5 OF THIS STORY!!!! http:// . com /art/ This-is-beyond-humiliating-135545083 TAKE OUT THE SPACES AND GO LOOK AT IT AND PRAISE IT AND WORSHIP HER. BECAUSE SHE. IS. MY. HERO. So anyway, back to the story! Guess who doesn't own Hetalia OR the Parent Trap plot! No, not Elvis (Although him, too)—me!

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The Parent Trap

Chapter 7: Of Touchy-Feely Spaniards

_On the last day of camp…_

"This is never going to work," groaned Romano, glaring sourly in the mirror in the corner of the cabin. He ran his fingers through his hair irritably and pulled them back, scowling as he realized they were coated in hair gel.

"Of course it's going to work!" Feliciano said for probably the thousandth time in ten minutes, grabbing another fistful of gloop and slopping it on his head. Both of the twins, in their effort to look like the other, had tried to get their _ahoge_ (That random curly piece of hair) to switch to the other side of their head, but it had automatically sprung back to its original position. Of course, doing this in the communal bathroom had been extremely uncomfortable as their _ahoges_ served as not only one of life's little mysteries but also as erogenous zones, making touching them in a public bathroom a very awkward experience. So they had returned to their cabin and decided to fix the problem with hair gel.

Italy glanced casually out the window then froze, a horrified expression on his face. "THE LIMO'S HERE!" Italy shrieked in terror, instantly clapping both hands over his mouth when he realized the volume of his voice. "_The limo's here!"_ He repeated in a hissed whisper from between his fingertips.

"I got that the first time," growled Romano, turning back to the mirror. If the limousine had just arrived, that meant Spain was here to pick up 'Feliciano'. "Is all our stuff packed?"

"Yep! I even put your cell-phone number into my phone and vice versa so that we'd be able to contact each other!" Feliciano reported.

"Wow. That was actually pretty smart," Romano said, pleasantly surprised.

"You know what they say! People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones!" Feliciano said, beaming sunnily at the compliment. Lovino spent a few seconds trying to connect the completely unrelated saying before finally giving up and turning to the mirror, plastering on his expression of contentment. With it on, he did look remarkably like Feliciano.

"_Merda_," he said cheerfully to his reflection. So what if swearing wasn't necessarily 'Feliciano'? He needed to swear when he was anxious. It was a habit.

"No swearing, even if you're nervous," Italy reprimanded absently (clearly not paying attention), capping the tub of gel and placing it in the duffel. "It's out-of-character for me, and it's not nice. If you absolutely need to, try saying Sugar-Honey-Iced-Tea or something. Not the actual word that means 'poop'."

There was a pause before both brothers whirled around, stunned, to face the other. "You speak Italian?" They blurted simultaneously.

"Yep! From a tutor last year! But I really like the language, so my dad bought me an Italian-to-English dictionary. It had bad words in it." The brunette looked scandalized for a second, before breaking back into a smile. "You?"

"From school. And I looked some of the more 'interesting' words online," Romano said with a shrug. "So you're the only one at home who can speak Italian?" The younger boy nodded his assent, and Lovino grinned (unintentionally looking like his brother again). "I can have some fun with that."

--

Spain slid out of the driver's seat of the limousine, running a hand through his rumpled hair. He hadn't been able to sleep since he dropped off Feliciano at camp. In between his general duties around the house (much less now that his young master was away), he found himself worrying. Was Italy getting bullied by the other children at camp? Did he make any friends? What if the boy hurts himself and he doesn't have Spain there to stick a band-aid on it and comfort him? It was stupid of him to leave Feliciano here alone.

Spain jogged impatiently down to cabin five, desperate to see a glimpse of his charge. A massive smile broke across his face when a brunette head popped into view. The hair and eyes were a shade darker than he remembered, but that hair curl was unmistakable. "Spain!"

"Feli!" he cried delightedly, throwing both arms out, ready for the younger boy to run over and envelop him in a bone-crushing hug. There was a pause for a split second when Feliciano turned bright red and a mortified expression flitted across his face. Feliciano always looked adorable, but that expression seemed to be the cutest one Spain had seen in his entire life. Of course, Spain must have imagined it, because instantly a sunny grinned popped onto Italy's face and he ran forward, tackling him.

"I missed you, my little Feli," he murmured into the other boy's hair. Romano (for that's who it was) felt his face turning steadily redder in embarrassment and buried his face into Spain's chest so he couldn't see it.

"Missed you, too," he muttered. It had been ages since Lovino had willingly hugged someone else (About nine years, to be precise), but the experience wasn't too bad. It was actually pleasant. He liked the way his arms around Spain and Spain's arms around him created a cocoon-like barrier in which he felt protected and warm. He liked the gentle puffs of Antonio's breath on his hair. But most of all, he liked the almost giddy feeling inside him that bubbled up, that told him that, just for a second, he was wanted. Loved.

Then, of course, he remembered. Spain wasn't happy to see him. He didn't even know Lovino existed. He thought that he was loveable, goofy Feliciano. So Romano plastered on a naïve smile and pulled back, ignoring the lonely feeling washing over him.

"So how is everyone at home? How're Dad and Hungary and China and Japan?"

Spain laughed, leaning forward and tapping his forehead against Lovino's. "Fine, everyone is fine. But they all missed you like you wouldn't believe!"

Another pang of sadness. "I missed them too!" he chirped, feeling absolutely horrible. Spain seemed incredibly kind and didn't deserve to be lied to. He bit his lip as these traitorous thoughts flicked across his mind, so hard it almost bled. What was he doing, losing resolve like this? He was investigating, here! It was too late to turn back now! Plus, he was Lovino! Lovino 'Romano' Jones! He shouldn't be wimping out like he was freakin Feliciano or anything! So with a new vigor, he continued his joyous babble as he and Antonio walked to the limousine that was going to take them to the airport.

--

"I'm going to die," whimpered Romano, clutching Spain's arm so tightly his circulation was cut off. "I'm going to die here. Save me, Spain. I'm scaaaared!" Surprisingly, Romano was actually not acting right now—this was his first time flying. As the stewardess came by to double-check that the panicking brunette was okay, Romano looked at her with a beseeching look, as if begging her to get him OFF THIS FUCKING PLANE.

"It's okay, my little Feli," Spain crooned, stroking the other boy's hair lightly. He made a face as his hand came away with a lot of hair gel stuck to it, but before he could ask about it, the plane shuddered in a foreboding way, making Romano give a little scream in the back of his throat. "Don't worry," Spain added, smiling hugely. "I'll protect you!"

Romano looked up at him, his face turning bright red, and opened his mouth looking like he was about to say something to the effect of 'I don't need you to protect me, bastard'. Spain felt himself blushing as well, just because of the expression on the other boy's face. He had never seen Feliciano's angry expression before, and for some really odd reason, he felt an urge to swoop down and kiss the other boy's frowning mouth.

'…_What am I thinking?' _Spain mentally asked himself. Of course, he meant kiss him in a brotherly way. Brotherly. Spain would never, _could_ never, view his charge in a different light then as the beloved little sibling he'd never had. Why, then, was his heart drumming so loudly against his ribcage?

A second later, though, Feliciano's expression switched to his normal, chipper one. "Thank you, Spain! I know you'll keep me safe!"

He smiled back, although for some reason he felt like he'd rather see the adorably sullen scowl on the other boy's face instead. He shrugged the weird feeling off and instead looked out the window as the plane picked up speed going down the runway. He and his favorite scatterbrain were finally headed home.

--

Romano poked his head out of the airport, mentally scowling at the incredibly humid, hot air outside. Holy _crap_. Was Florida always like this? Of course, he had to pretend to be used to the hellish weather, so on the outside he was cheerful and energetic. On the inside, however, he was suffering.

"There he is!" Spain whispered, placing his hand on Romano's shoulder and pointing. Romano was steadily getting driven insane by Spain's constant habit of touching him. Romano was definitely not a touchy-feely person and was more often then not uncomfortable when someone was invading his bubble. So of course he had to be stuck with Spain, who was constantly holding his hand, putting an arm around his shoulder, brushing his fingertips against his cheek and smiling, smiling, smiling. It was going to kill him.

Romano followed the Spaniard's finger to see a man weaving his way through the crowd—A man with enormous eyebrows and lime-green eyes. England.

"Dad!" Romano squealed, running through the crowd and tackling England into a hug. The other man wrapped his arms around Romano for a moment, squeezing him closer, before pulling him back to get a good look at him.

"Feliciano! How was camp? Did you have a good time?" He said. He and Romano were about the same height. Lovino noticed the other man's thick English accent. Ah. That explained the nickname. It was almost funny how Feliciano had forgotten to mention this interesting fact.

"It was super super fun and I made some friends and—who's this?" Lovino looked slightly to the left of England where a blonde man Lovino didn't recognize from anything Feliciano told him was standing. His hair was long and wavy, and he had a little scruff of a beard on his chin. When he was acknowledged, he came up and put an arm around England's shoulder.

"This is Francis Bonnefoy," England said, blushing light pink and looking incredibly embarrassed. "He's my…erm…boyfriend."

***

Don't worry; this won't be France and England. I'm not a fan of that pair. Reviews, Please? =D


	8. Of Dirty Metropolises

That's right, everyone! Spazzkitty, that insane author who is addicted to pudding actually finished a chapter of this fic! Surprising, huh? I'd like to dedicate this to PrueWhiteMagic. You wanted an excerpt, so HERE'S THE WHOLE DANG CHAPTER! THAT'S RIGHT. HOW DO YA LIKE ME NOW? BTW, There's a poll on my page for pairings! That's right! So GO VOTE FOR PRUCAN. I mean, the pairing you want. That's right. Eheheh. NOT LIKE I'M BIASED OR ANYTHING. AND NOT LIKE PRUCAN IS LOSING (WHICH IT IS). But anyway. I don't own Hetalia and ON WITH THE FIC!

---

Parent Trap

Chapter 8: Of Dirty Metropolises

Feliciano watched with bated breath as Romano clambered into the limousine after his beloved butler, Spain. He noted with glee that Antonio didn't seem to realize that anything had changed with the boy he was supposed to be watching (although he was admittedly oblivious anyway). As the car drove off in a shower of gravel and dirt, Feliciano leaned back into his cabin and hugged himself, beaming in innocent delight. Everything was going so well! He was going to be Lovi, and Lovi was going to be him, and they were gonna solve mysteries and it was gonna be just like Scooby-Doo! He walked over to the bottom bunk and plopped down on it, ignoring the protesting screech of the rusty springs. He suddenly felt lonely, just sitting on the sheetless mattress, staring at the suitcase that was not his propped haphazardly against the wall. On it rested a brown cap of Romano's that he has seen his probably-brother wear on numerous occasions. It was probably Lovi's favorite, which meant it was his favorite now since he was Lovi and Lovi was him and—it was all so confusing!

Feli shook these ideas from his head (he was really more of a live-in-the-moment person who just took things as they came; he didn't like being bogged down by confusing thoughts) and looked at his new cheap wristwatch Lovi had bought off a street vendor near Chinatown. It took him a little bit to remember how to read analog clocks, but he finally deduced that Lovino's uncle Lived-In-Canada—oh wait, just Canada—would be here to pick him up in about five minutes. He stood up, grabbed the hat, and jammed it purposefully on his head before running out the door. He had just one thing left to take care of.

--

Germany was halfway into his car when he felt something tackle forcefully him around the waist and latch on like a parasite. He sighed, trying to separate the deathgrip the blubbering Italian had around him. "Feliciano, what are you doing?" he said exasperatedly

"L-L-LUDWIIIIIG," he sobbed. The boy in question just looked down at him.

"Why are you wearing your brother's hat?" Italy said nothing. He couldn't very well say, 'Oh, because I have a ton of gel in my hair because I'm trying to look like Romano who may or may not be my brother so we can switch places and possibly figure out if we are related or what if anything happened with our dads and his uncle is coming really really soon and I wanted to say goodbye to you before I left and I didn't want you to ask any questions because the explanation would take too long and we wouldn't have time to say goodbye!' For one thing, that would defeat the purpose of the attempt to save time. For another, even dense little Italy could infer that straight-laced, serious Germany probably wouldn't approve of this plan. And, of course, there was the issue of the brunette's hysterical crying, which made speech almost impossible.

He attempted to say something, but all that came out was 'SAD!!" Germany's frustrated expression melted into one almost like compassion. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, which only made him snivel more. "Calm down. Take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong."

Feliciano did as instructed, then blurted out, "I'll miss you so much, Ludwig!" The blonde felt his face go pink.

"Is that what this is about?" He asked, his voice coming out without the annoyance he had meant for it to have. Italy didn't say a word, just pressed his face further into Germany's shirt. "Listen, Italy. You don't have to be so upset about this." Ludwig tried to make his voice sound comforting, which was pretty difficult as his windpipe was sealed off by the chokehold around his lungs.

"Yes I dooo! I'll never see you again!" he bawled.

"Well…Maybe you will," he said rather unconvincingly. Honestly, Ludwig saw himself as a practical person and felt that meeting at all was coincidental enough (Especially since Feliciano lived in Florida), and the probability of them meeting _again_ was several billion to one. But he wasn't about to say that to the hopeful-looking teary eyes staring at him.

"Promise?" he sniffled. Well, crap. Now what was he supposed to do?

` "I'm not sure if I should promise," he said, trying to pick his words carefully so as not to upset the extremely delicate frame of mind Feliciano was in. "Especially because broken promises can be very serious, and-"

"Good! It's a promise," the enthusiastic boy cut in eagerly, giving the German a last, lingering hug. He looked at his watch for a few seconds, impatiently. "Hey, Germany, what does this clock say when the big hand is here and the little hand is here?"

Dazed, the tall blonde told him, and he shrieked loud enough to break the sound barrier. "I'M GOING TO BE LATE FOR MY UNCLE WHO PROBABLY ISN'T MY UNCLE PROBABLY! UNLESS HE IS!"

"Wait, what?" Ludwig spluttered, but Italy gave him yet another hug, this time leaning in for an affectionate kiss on the cheek. As he blushed a tomato-red, Feliciano squeezed his hands and ran off, turning around to wave at him one last time.

"I'll see you again! We promised!" he shouted joyously, before tucking the cap further over his head and turning around, beginning at a walk and picking up speed until the camp he had begun to love flew past in a swirl of color. He let a laugh escape, already thinking about the incredible adventure he was about to embark on with his maybe-brother, and he couldn't help smiling hugely. Life was about to get a lot more exciting!

As he sprinted, the young German man watched him with a red face and fingertips placed lightly on his cheek. He sighed, a small, forlorn sound, then climbed into his car, positive he would never see that radiant smile again.

--

Feliciano sat eagerly on the wooden steps stretching from the doorway of his cabin. He drummed out an idle beat with his fingers against the splintery wood, his other hand wrapped tightly around the handle of his suitcase. He stared unblinkingly around the camp, searching out a new red pickup truck that a Matthew Williams was supposed to be driving. When he saw it at the very end of the line of cars, he smiled in a delighted way, hefting up his suitcase and setting off. It took a little while to get to the end of the line, but slowly a blonde came into his sight. He was pretty frail-looking, with massive blue eyes covered with a thin pair of glasses. He was worrying at his lip with his teeth and pulling anxiously on his oversized red sweatshirt as he looked around the camp for his nephew. There was only one person he could be…

"UNCLE CANADA!!!" shrieked Feliciano, leaping forward as the poor blonde started violently and wrapping him in a massive hug.

"L-L-Lovino?" he squeaked. Instantly, Feliciano realized that he was supposed to be Lovino right now. And Lovino didn't normally glomp people while shrieking excitedly. He had gotten a little too enthusiastic about meeting his uncle and forgotten. Whoops.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me," Feliciano tried again, pulling off and scowling. He willed an embarrassed flush to come to his face and, when it didn't work, thought of Ludwig's rare little smile. That was enough to stain his cheeks a little. "Sorry. I just…kinda missed you. Is all. Don't think anything of it," he said sourly.

"I won't," Matthew said with a little smile. Apparently, this had been the right thing to say, and Italy felt like cheering and pumping his fist up in the air. Of course, that would only end up messing it up again, so he said nothing and just continued to frown half-heartedly. "So how was camp? Did you make any new friends?"

"I-I don't ever make friends. You know that."

"…Right," Canada said, his forehead crinkling slightly in sad empathy. Feliciano bit his lip, mistaking the face for one of confusion and thinking maybe he had overdone it a little. Oh well. There was nothing he could do about it at this point. Just try to make sure it doesn't get worse, he guessed.

"Do you want to go?" He said a little gruffly, trying his best to do the impression as good as he'd done it with Lovi. He would use his love for his probably-brother to act with all his ability! _'I'll do my best for you, Lovi!'_ he thought with a determined nod.

"A-alright," he said, seeming relieved that Romano was acting more normal than he'd been before. He risked another smile and held open the door for Feliciano, who clambered in sulkily and slouched over in the almost immaculate leather cushion of the seat. As Matthew scrambled around the other side, Feliciano took this opportunity to look out the back window of the truck and blow a kiss to the camp behind him. He giggled, but the sound was instantly cut off when the door opened on the other side and Canada slid in. He smiled sweetly at the brunette boy, and Italy felt a stab of pride that his now-uncle didn't seem to realize the switch. "Are you ready?"

"Yep," he drawled, a slow smirk coming over his face in a Lovino-like way. "Let's go."

--

"Here we are," Canada said, pulling expertly into the parking spot and shutting off the ignition. "Home again." Feliciano tried not to act surprised at the perfect parking job; Romano had told him that, while America was an awful driver who frequently ran things over (Street signs, other cars, pedestrians, cops), Canada was a slow and precise one. He opened the door and got his first glimpse of the city.

New York was a bustling place, full of smoggy air and the screeched profanities of drivers. He saw endless billboards, gum-covered sidewalks, misspelled graffiti on all the buildings, darting taxis that looked like they were going to get the drivers and passengers killed, and an old toothless hobo playing bongos near the entrance to a subway. There was a greasy pizza shop advertising 'The beste pizza in New Yorrk!', a woman with tons of make-up and too much leather to be strictly legal, a suspicious-looking man holding a whole pack of cigarettes who was trying to pick another clueless man's pocket, and a man with a guitar, a cowboy hat, matching boots, and a Speedo. And nothing else.

Feliciano 'Italy' Kirkland had never seen a more beautiful place in his life.

"Are you coming?" Matthew asked, laying a slightly concerned hand on his nephew's shoulder. Feliciano started out of his reverie.

"Yeah, sure. It's just good to be home." The older man just smiled in response, turning from his car parked in the empty lot after being sure that it was locked and alarmed properly. He walked a little ways, with Italy trailing closely behind, until he got to an apartment building. To his surprise, Canada pulled himself onto the fire escape, then lifted out a hand to pull Feliciano up after him. The two continued up the grimy red stairs until reaching a window about halfway up the building. Canada gently lifted it up and slid in, and Italy followed excitedly while keeping on his irritable façade. Canada led him to a rather beaten door, and knocked on it. A cheerful voice boomed within.

"FEE, FI, FO, FUM. I SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ITALIAN AND A CANADIAN."

"Alfred," Matthew replied with an impatient roll of his eyes. "Open the door."

"Alright, alright," the voice grumbled. "Freakin killjoy." There was the fumbling sound of clumsy fingers sliding a deadbolt, and the door was thrown open, only to smack Matthew squarely in the face and send him sprawling to the ground.

"Lovi! How was camp? Did you have a good ride Matthe—OH MY GOD!"

"You…" Matthew growled, sitting up and clutching at his profusely-bleeding nose. "YOU MIGHT HAVE BROKEN MY NOSE!"

"I didn't do anything!" Alfred said frantically, kneeling next to his brother. "You must have jumped in front of the door or something!"

"Like fun I did," he spluttered. Feliciano just stood there in stupefied silence until his phone rang.

"Oh! I have a text!" he said cheerfully, turning to his phone and ignoring the spectacle in front of him. He clicked a few buttons, trying to figure out how to open the message (this WAS Romano's phone), until he finally succeeded.

From: Feliciano Kirkland

Time: XX:XX

Subject: PEUHJIOPEFIOJRVWEFJLPJ!!!!!!!!!

YOUR FATHER'S NEW BOYFRIEND JUST GROPED MY ASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Reply?

Feliciano blinked at it for a few moments, before shaking his head. His dad didn't have a boyfriend. Silly Lovi must have been confused! He smiled and flipped the phone shut, tucking it in his pocket and scowling again. As he watched the blondes panicking, he vaguely wondered what he was supposed to do. He didn't really know what to do in a crisis like this.

As this ruckus was going on somebody must have heard it, because the door across the hall—the new tenant's door—opened and someone popped out. Feliciano's 'welcome-to-the-apartment' died on his lips and he didn't even hear the voice from within ask "Something wrong, West?"

In fact, all he could do was let one word slips from his lips.

"L-Ludwig?"

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I don't deserve your reviews, guys. But if you love me, You'll review anyway~ =D


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